


Friends with Benefits

by PoorUnfortunateSoul



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Dancing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Slice of Life, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6661435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoorUnfortunateSoul/pseuds/PoorUnfortunateSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parker is asexual. His boyfriend Miles, well, he isn't. Worried that Miles is going to leave him because he won't put out, so long as Miles promises that Parker is only person he has feelings for, he tells Miles he can be friends with benefits with a blonde girl named Serenity. <br/>Everything is fine and the deal works out better than both of them could've hoped, but then things get complicated. <br/>Miles starts sneaking out to see Serenity, and Parker's dance partner somehow manages to do the one thing no other boy could: turn him on. <br/>Will Parker and Miles work out, or is lust stronger than love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends with Benefits

 He moves his hand lower and it feels like electricity shoots through my veins. I force myself not to tense up and push him away, but I’m hyper-aware of every move he makes and it makes me feel physically ill.  
   
            I force myself to breathe through my nose and remind myself that this is Miles, and he loves me; he would rather die than hurt me, and he just wants to take our relationship to the next level. He’s not going to leave as soon as I give him everything, if anything it’ll strengthen the way he feels about me, and I want that, don’t I?  
   
            Apparently not. He pushes us down on the bed, his lanky form on top of my short one, and it feels like he’s crushing me despite the fact that he’s hovering a good three inches above me. His hand is planted firmly on the bed next to my head and he’s not being rough, he’s giving me the chance to say ‘no’ and it makes my stomach twist in on itself to know that I’m going to have to stop this.  
   
            Miles is everything to me, but I can feel the panic creeping into my veins and his kiss is needy but the hand that isn’t supporting him is brushing the hair back from my face, letting me know that it’s okay to stop, but it isn’t, not really, because he wants this and he’s been so patient, but I just _can’t._  
   
            I kneed my hands into his back and force slow, deep breathes through my nose. Miles trails his hand down over my stomach and pushes his hand down into my boxers. He pulls back and puts all of his concentration into trying to make me feel good, and it does, but I don’t get erect.  
   
            I watch his face for the disappointment, but it’s more like shame. Shame that he can’t pleasure me, and it’s silly because we’ve talked about this before, but he feels it anyways. Hurt flickers in his brown eyes and I wish that he’d yell at me, or something, but he pulls back and moves away instead.  
   
            “Not today,” he murmurs, wrapping me up in his arms, “okay.”  
   
            “I’m sorry,” I say, turning to hide my face in his chest.  
   
            He strokes his hand down my back before kissing the top of my head.  
   
            “It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, “I knew what I was getting into when you told me you were asexual.”  
   
            “I _want_ to,” I say, “I want to, so, so bad. I think about it sometimes, and I think that I’d like it, with you, but then we actually do it and I just can’t, I can’t even get hard and I don’t understand because that I can, I swear I can, but I get so nervous and it makes me feel sick and I’m so-“  
   
            “I swear to God, Parker, if you apologize,” he says, cutting off my word vomit.  
   
            I sigh in frustration, and pull out of his arms.  
   
            “Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing to his pants.  
   
            I shake my head. He lifts up his hips and I pull his boxers down for him, pants long forgotten on our trek to my room.  
   
            I sit back against the cool wall and suppress my urge to groan. I know I should be turned on right now, what with Miles’ wrist working to pleasure himself and how he makes the tiniest whining noises when his wrist moves just the right way with just enough speed and how hooded his eyes are, glazed over with lust, but I feel absolutely no need – or want, for that matter – to tackle him and have him fuck me until I can’t remember my name.  
   
            Miles comes with a high pitched moan and he arches his back off of the bed before dropping down and panting. He flicks his brown hair out of his eyes and reaches over to the end table to grab a tissue.  
   
            “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, wiping his stomach off.  
   
            I laugh quietly because really, if someone should be apologizing it’s me.  
   
            “It’s alright,” I say, running my fingers through his hair, “it’s not your fault that I’m defective.”  
   
            He opens his mouth to argue, but I shush him.  
   
            “I know,” I murmur, “there’s wrong with me, this is just the way I am, blah blah blah.”  
   
            He smiles fondly and leans into my touch.  
   
            “And I wouldn’t have you any other way. Want to watch a movie?”  
   
            I nod. We set up Netflix and he chooses some sappy romance movie just like he always does. I rest my head on his chest as we watch it, and he strokes my back and upper-arm.  
   
            I adore nights like this, when Miles isn’t at basketball practice and I’m not at dance practice, but an immense worry washes over me: How many more nights like this will we have?  
            Miles is anything but impatient with me. He understands that my being asexual means that I don’t want sex as much as the average person – if at all – and he’s the first boyfriend that doesn’t try to push me into it. Sure, he pushes his boundaries sometimes; I think we’re both waiting for a night that I’ll want to go all the way, but he always stops when I ask him to.  
   
            Miles isn’t asexual, he’s had sex before with eight different people, and I can’t help but wonder how long he can put with my not putting out before he just up and leaves. I wouldn’t try to stop him, and I wouldn’t hate him, because I understand that he has needs that I can’t fill.  
   
            I bite my lip and look up at him, but his attention is on the movie. We’ve been dating for four months now, and I can’t imagine my life without his sweet-as-honey laugh and lanky form wrapping me up in hugs so tight I worry that someday he’ll accidently bruise my ribs.  
             
            He looks at the clock.  
   
            “I have to go,” he says, gently pushing me off of him.  
   
            “Oh,” I say, a bit sadly.  
   
            I watch him collect his clothes and belongings before he’s kissing my forehead.  
   
            “See you,” he murmurs, before turning and leaving the room.  
   
            I lie back on the bed and try to soak up his smell despite the fact that he’s literally right outside, getting into his car, and try to convince myself that he didn’t leave two hours before he normally does because I wouldn’t have sex with him.  
  
            I watch the rest of the movie with a heavy feeling in my chest and feeling obligated to, I text Miles to tell him how it ends. He sends a smiley face in return and I flick through movies until I fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm glad I found a replacement for quotev. I'm sorry for being such a baby about the new layout, but it's gross and overly-complicated and everything looks... bad. 
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xxpoorunfortunatesoulxx)


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